


Je t'aime

by illyriantremors



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ACOMAF AU, AU, Alternate Universe, F/M, Fluffy Smut, Honeymoon, Paris - Freeform, acomaf, newlyweds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-20
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-23 13:08:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8329075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/illyriantremors/pseuds/illyriantremors
Summary: Feyre is in the city of lights honeymooning when her new hubs, Rhys, takes her on a surprise midnight trip to see the Eiffel Tower, something she has always dreamed of. Romantic smut ensues.





	

He woke me up at midnight.

_À minuit_.

My eyes were still planted firmly shut in the hangover of my jet lag, but my husband’s lazy kisses across my cheeks, my nose, as his body loomed over me not quite touching my own, stirred me gently from sleep.

My husband.

Golly, that was startling.

Mon mari. Mon époux. Homme. Amant. Meilleur Ami. The French had so many words for a husband when you took in to account all the different entities that singular man could be and Rhysand was all of them.

“ _Feyre_ ,” he whispered, my name rolling off his tongue softly as he payed homage to each of my freckles with his lips. “Wake up, darling. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I opened my eyes to find Rhysand’s beautiful violet ones staring down at me sparkling with delight.

“I love surprises.”

“I know you do.”

Thirty minutes later a cab had dropped us off… somewhere. My husband - I was never going to get over that word no matter how many years we were married - seemed to know where he was going.

He took my hand, kissed it quickly, and tugged me forward. I always thought the City of Lights would empty out this late at night, but I was wrong. There was a subtle energy that hummed among us as we walked the streets. People sat outside cafés sipping their wine, but no one was really speaking.

No, the language of Paris at night, I decided, was in the movement. It was the way the lights dimmed, but you could still see perfectly underneath the bed of stars and café lanterns. It was the sound of music coming from a direction you couldn’t pinpoint, like old-timey jazz you’d expect to see Fitzgerald or Hemingway write to. It was the quiet embrace of lovers walking hand-in-hand or friends clinking glasses together over a baguette and a plate of fromage.

That was Paris. It lived a quiet, proud simplicity and already I was in love with all of it.

Rhysand turned the corner and we landed on what I would later learn was le Champ de Mars - a beautiful lush stretch of grass and greenery. But the garden was completely lost on me because strolling onto the lawn’s crisp open lanes had cleared the city buildings from view and what was left was a vision wrapped up in lights I had longed to see since the moment I’d stepped in to my first French class back in high school.

_Le Tour Eiffel_

All my life I’d had this weird fascination with France. I couldn’t explain it. And the Eiffel Tower was the crowning jewel of my dreams. Something about the history behind it or maybe the way it stood as this beacon of everything I wanted out of life and love drove a wild desire in me to see it, like my life wouldn’t be complete without it.

Nor without _him_.

Rhys brought me here. He knew I wanted this more than anything. We had settled on Hawaii, neither of us liking the cold and knowing a warm honeymoon spot would be optimal for a winter wedding.

But then we got to the airport and Rhysand handed me the tickets without saying a word seeing how long it would take me to notice and when I practically screamed at the security guard, “I’m going _where?!”_ when he had tried to confirm my destination, it was all I could do to not cause a ruckus in the security line and get us chucked out.

I don’t know how long it took me to tear my eyes away from the gleaming tower in the sky, but when I did finally look at my husband, I was positively beaming. He wasn’t even looking at the landmark and I wondered if he ever had in the time we’d been standing there. Something told me he hadn’t.

“Want to go up?”

“We can’t, it’s closed.”

“Not for you.”

My brows furrowed, but in the dim lighting, it was hardly noticeable. “What are you-”

“Come on!” He darted forward, dragging me with him, and to my utter amazement the guards at the tower didn’t so much as flinch when Rhysand and I walked up.

In a rapid French that surprised me, Rhys said something to the guard who then radioed with another operative and the next thing I knew, a beautiful set of wrought-iron elevator doors were opening for my entry.

“Après vous, ma chère,” Rhys said, bowing before me whilst pointing at the empty elevator. I gaped at him, but stepped in nonetheless.

“You stupid prick. How in the world did you pull this off?”

Rhysand’s arms went around me and he leaned down. Softer even then when he’d woken me up, his lips pressed against my own lingering as we shot up into the air. When the doors opened, he simply said, “Anything for you, Feyre Darling. Look.”

I turned my head and there was Paris and I was standing at the very top of it all.

I darted forward and went straight to the rail leaning and looking forward as much as the safety screens would allow. I was so high up, but with the city lights beaming at me from every direction, I didn’t care how high I had to climb. I wanted _more_.

I spun around with what I was sure was a mad grin on my face and found my husband leaning against the elevator doors, his hands in his pockets, just watching me quietly with a pleased expression on his face. We stared at each other for one giddy moment and then he jerked his head like _Go on!_ and I took off, racing around the viewing deck until I’d seen every angle of the city possible. It was impossible not to roar with delight as I skipped down the path.

The feeling was overwhelming, like a dream of melted chocolate and champagne you don’t quite realize is happening until you wake up and wish desperately to fall back asleep. Except I was lucky enough this time to know this was a dream, one I never wanted to end.

Just when I was wishing desperately for him to come and share it with me, Rhysand’s arms snaked around my chest and his breathe was warm on my ear against the chill winter air when he spoke.

“Well? Is it everything you thought it would be?”

My arms rose to entwine with his hands at my chest and in doing so our wedding bands touched momentarily through our gloves. I could smell the citrus on him, made a little stronger by the faint breeze carrying it around me. And Mother above, I never wanted to leave.

“It’s perfect,” I said with a sniffle. Rhysand brushed away a tear I hadn’t realized was falling and I turned around in his arms to face him.

“It gets better, you know.”

“What gets better?”

“Shh!” Rhys pulled out his phone to check the clock. “Right on time.”

“What is-”

Somewhere distantly in the city, I heard a bell chime. _One o’clock_.

The Eiffel Tower, already illuminated with a soft yellow glow, suddenly lit up in a blaze of glittering lights that sparkled across the city like a freshly opened bottle of champagne. I jumped and Rhys squeezed me in his arms as our smiles burst.

“Rhysand,” I said. “You _prick_ ,” but I’d never smiled nor cried so hard.

He laughed full and rich and I could make out his breathe on the air. “My wife,” he said proudly and his thumb brushed over my cheek. The glittering lights of the tower suddenly seemed dim to the lights staring down at me in his eyes. _“My wife.”  
_

_“My husband_.”

And then he kissed me and somehow, not in all the thousands of times our lips had met did I ever feel so fully connected to him as I did standing there right in that moment being kissed deeply, adoringly, _passionately_ by this man who would turn the world upside down if I asked him to.

We stumbled into the elevator and as soon as the doors clicked shut, _my husband_ pushed me up against the wall, his hands slipping under my coat to brush against the skin of my stomach while our lips worked furiously against one another. It had to have been near freezing outside, but the heat building in my core would never have believed it.

Rhys moved his lips to my ear as his hands dipped into my pants to grab my rear. “Rhysand,” I whimpered, my fingers curling into his hair. “My husband. _Mine, mine, mine, you’re all mine.”_ He swore, a small yet dangerous word coming off his lips before his kisses picked up their urgency on the skin of my neck.

I was getting ready to prop myself up so I could wrap my legs around him when the ding of the elevator doors signaled we’d landed and the ride was over.

But Rhys and I certainly weren’t. Far from it.

What had been a twenty minute ride to Le Champ de Mars felt like an hour long ride back to the hotel. Rhys shoved what I was sure would be a regrettable amount of money over breakfast into the cab driver’s hands and we dashed into the hotel, taking the stairs because waiting for the elevator seemed like a waste.

I dropped the key card trying to get it in to the slot and Rhys chuckled, scooping it up and replacing my trembling hands on the lockpad with his own sure and steady ones.

The door clicked shut and our bodies wrapped around each other creating this goofy tangled mess of grins and heated kisses. His teeth nipped playfully at my gloves until he’d pulled them off and it was all downhill from there, our clothes a strewn mess about the floor in a matter of seconds. We took our time only to make space for ourselves between the sheets, Rhys laying me down against the mattress with the most loving, caring look as he brought himself over me.

His knees parted my legs and we wasted no time. I wanted him inside me. I wanted to feel every inch of him sliding in. And when he did press himself in me and our bodies met skin on skin, it was like touching him for the first time. I was drunk on the feel of him in this perfect city, how his skin tingled against my own hot and smooth. How little beads of sweat gathered on his forehead as he worked inside me and my hips rose to meet his every move. How his hands held me, cradling me against him like the most precious gift he would ever receive.

It was one thing doing this as boyfriend and girlfriend, or even when we were engaged. The chance of things falling apart was always a lingering possibility then, but never again. Taking my husband to bed was a whole new world of magic that I knew could never, ever end.

I wrapped myself around him with every free inch of me I could spare - my legs around his waist bringing my center tighter around his hardness, my arms wrapping tightly around his chest where my fingers could press in at his back and drag against the muscles. It wasn’t long after that one hand fell away against the pillow and Rhys quickly captured it with his own, squeezing into my palm with a fierce grip.

We made love that night for five minutes or five hours, I wasn’t sure how long it really was. At times we moved so fast we became a quick entanglement of movement and gasps as we rolled over one another endlessly. And at other times, the dance became so slow it was an agonizing series of gasps and aches led by sound and touch alone until only a blur of him and I existed, man and wife, two stars blazing across the Parisian sky on fire for each other.

“I love you, Feyre,” he whispered at one point and then in a mad rush, he bit my lower lip sucking it hard to stop himself from coming so the night could drag on.

We finished in a heap of pants and heaving chests, a mess of sheets scattered this way and that about the bed. When Rhys tried to pull out to wrap us up properly in the bed, I tightened my hold. “No don’t,” I moaned as if I might sob from losing the feel of him inside of me. I didn’t know when I’d gotten so sappy, but it was like I couldn’t help myself. “Don’t go.”

His head fell into the crook of my neck and rested there for a very long time while I ran my fingers through his hair, across his back and whispered over and over again, _“Don’t go, don’t go. Just let me_ feel _you.”_

When he did pull out, it was like a sin. But thankfully, we had two weeks in Paris to go to church and atone.

It felt like we’d barely fallen asleep when the sun came sneaking through the windows of our room in the early hours of the morning. Rhysand didn’t notice.

I lazily opened my eyes and glanced up at my sleeping husband, his face serene and calm. His arms were wrapped securely around me and my head rested between them against his chest. Our legs were further locked together below us. We hadn’t moved all night.

I moved my hand - my _left_ hand - up his chest and stared at the sapphire ring he’d placed upon it and smiled. The amount of love I felt in my heart was astoundingly impossible.

As gently as I could so as not to wake him, I tilted my head up and lightly kissed Rhys’s lips. “I love you,” I whispered, a hum in my throat.

And then I closed my eyes and fell back to sleep in my husband’s embrace.

xx


End file.
